


Silk

by eruthiel



Series: There was this Bad Guy (let's call him Bad Guy) [3]
Category: MarsCorp (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Bogeyman, Child Abuse, Creepy Fluff, Discipline, Gen, Giant Spiders, Punishment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-01 22:21:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15783273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eruthiel/pseuds/eruthiel
Summary: David finds out what happens to bad kids.





	Silk

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Come Along](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15775173) by [Lothiriel84](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lothiriel84/pseuds/Lothiriel84). 



> My tribute/contribution to Lothiriel84's amazing Bogeyman AU. I hope you like it!
> 
> Title from [Silk by Wolf Alice](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wTsN7uugtfg).

Thirteen tall trees grow in a loose cluster about fifteen minutes’ walk from the cottage. They don’t bear leaves, blossoms or fruit. Their only adornments are cobwebs the size of sails which hang from their branches in long, rotting curtains, perfectly becalmed in the dead air. They give off a sickly sweet smell for more than twenty feet in every direction and make climbing difficult.

Still, these are the first trees David has ever seen outside of a book, and naturally they are his friends. He’s never been the most physically adept little boy, but every day he clambers his way carefully up through the gnarled branches of one tree or another, until he can go no higher. He sits and looks down at the cottage, out at the crumbling landscape, up at the universes shifting and spiralling in the sky. He runs his fingers over the grey bark, between the clumps of cobweb.

More than once, in spite of his caution, he has returned home with a scrap of putrid silk stuck to his clothes or matted into his hair. When this happens, his guardians fuss over getting him cleaned up while Colin gently berates Patrick for never tidying up after himself. Nobody shouts or blames David. He doesn’t know what to make of that. He wonders what it would take for them to get mad at him.

Today David has been very good about keeping himself clean; he hasn’t even scuffed his shoes on the jagged rocks which make up the path from the cottage. He is staring at the ever-shifting sky, making up worlds that might be found on the other side (a planet where people have butterflies for hands?) when something up there catches his eye.

A black spot emerges from the shimmering dimensional currents and descends slowly to the ground. It’s Patrick, travelling on his thread. As he touches down in the distance and starts scuttling towards the cottage, David can make out some kind of small object strapped to his back with silk. Small in relation to Patrick, that is. It actually looks about David-sized, though it’s hard to tell from here.

David slips down from his tree and follows Patrick towards the cottage. When he lets himself in at the front door, he finds Patrick waiting in the hallway to press his mouth shut with the tip of one spindly leg. David takes the hint and shuts the door as softly as he can, which is very softly.

The kitchen door is closed; from the other side, he can hear the soft murmur of Colin’s voice. David doesn’t need to ask what’s going on. He knows already, or suspects. Patrick doesn’t stop him when he tiptoes over and presses his eye to the keyhole.

In the kitchen, the table is set for afternoon tea. (They call it that even though, strictly speaking, there are no afternoons, mornings, days or nights here). Colin fills up a teacup from the milk jug and passes it across the table to... it looks like a little human girl, with fresh silk still clinging to her pink dress. Her back is to the door so all David can see are her pigtails bobbing as she loudly slurps her milk.

He sees Colin raise an eyebrow as he sips his tea. “Didn’t your parents teach you any manners?”

The girl falls silent. If she makes any response, David doesn’t see it. Colin sighs. “Are you a good girl, Violet?”

The pigtails bounce as the girl nods emphatically.

“That’s not what I hear. I hear you’ve actually been a very bad, naughty, disobedient little girl.” Colin puts his teacup down with a severe ‘click.’ David’s never seen him quite like this before. “Did your parents ever tell you what happens to naughty little girls, Violet?”

At last, the girl raises her voice, tiny and trembling. “They said... they said the bogeyman comes and... and gets you.”

Even through the keyhole, David can see the gleam in Colin’s eye. “And did they ever tell you what the bogeyman does with you after he gets you?”

She just sits there, shivering. Colin tuts. “Drink your milk like a good little girl while it’s still cold.”

There’s less slurping this time. David watches as Violet tips back her head and drains the teacup of milk until, with a clatter, she drops it back in her saucer. “I...” Her voice is very faint now. “I feel – I don’t feel very well...”

“That’s right. When you are bad, you deserve to feel bad. Do you understand me, Violet Alison Smith?” Without waiting for an answer, Colin gets up, rounds the table, and takes her firmly by the arm. She stumbles after him as he drags her over to the cupboard door – the little square one in the corner, with the iron lock and bolt. The one David has never seen opened before, or even acknowledged. The one he knew instinctively from his first day here was out of bounds.

Violet dangles from Colin’s grasp like a doll while he retrieves a hefty iron key from his pocket with his free hand. He stoops to unlock the door and slide back the bolt. “You can come out when you’ve learned to be good,” he tells her, with no gentleness left.

When the door opens, the darkness on the other side is absolute. This world between worlds is a non-place of permanent twilight; everything is gloomy here, but nothing is ever truly dark, not like this cupboard – if cupboard it is. David stares as Colin shoves Violet through and slams the door on her single belated scream. It was only a split second of noise, which disappeared the moment the door shut, but her voice seems to echo in the restored quiet of the house. David wonders if he would have heard her from the top of his tree.

David turns away and buries his face in Patrick’s fur. Patrick rubs his back. From inside the kitchen, they hear the cupboard door being locked and bolted before footsteps and the opening kitchen door announce Colin’s presence in the hallway. “Oh,” he says. “Hi, David.”

“Hi, Colin,” David mumbles, still clinging to Patrick.

“You okay there, buddy? Can I get you some tea?”

David slowly follows Colin back into the kitchen, sits in the chair Violet was occupying moments ago. Colin takes the milk jug and Violet’s empty teacup and starts rinsing them both thoroughly in the sink.

Patrick joins them, making himself at home in a corner of the ceiling. “He saw everything, Master.”

“Well, that’s alright. He had to, sooner or later.” Colin puts the jug and the cup aside to dry and turns away from the sink, wiping his hands on his trousers as he joins David at the table. He smiles. ”Are you feeling okay, David?”

David nods. His guardians seem to be waiting for him to say something, but he doesn’t know what to say.

Noticing the way David’s eyes keep flickering over to the cupboard door, Colin sighs. “Look, David. I’m sorry if it upset you. You knew that we punish naughty children here, right? That’s, like, our whole gig. It’s nothing personal, just orders from upstairs.”

“What did she do?”

“That’s confidential.” Colin grimaces. “Part of the paperwork I’ll be chewing my way through for the next few hours. Ugh.”

From the ceiling, Patrick’s voice chimes in like a very large, slow, ugly bell: “It was something bad, though. It has to be for them to end up here.”

David tries to feel reassured by that. He toys with the tablecloth and presses, “How long will she be in there?”

Colin shrugs. “You know time doesn’t exist here, buddy. For her, it’ll feel like... long enough.” Before this can go any further, Colin picks up a plate of biscuits from the middle of the table and moves it closer to David. “Hey, help yourself, kiddo. Or they’ll only go to waste.”

Obediently, David takes one. He has nothing to dunk it in, but he doesn’t complain. He’s too busy eyeing the cupboard door, still: the squat, heavy, child-sized door that blots out all sound and light. He’s aware of Colin and Patrick watching him with parental concern, wanting him to be okay.

He wonders, again, what it would take for them to get mad at him.


End file.
